Coffee in the Morning
by Seriously-Undesirable
Summary: A young barrister by the name of Regina Mills wonders if love after heartbreak is possible, and after meeting a beautiful college student called Emma Swan, she begins to think it is possible, but the love she finds at the end is one of most unexpected origin.
1. prologue

Is it possible to love someone after having your heart broken? I mean it honestly, not in an ' _all love is overrated'_ way or even in an anti-relationship way. I mean it honestly, can you ever love someone again when your heart has been broken? Does it ever heal? Does it ever truly get fixed or do we just continue our lives, learning to compensate with the gaping hole inside of us?

In all honesty, I don't know.

Love isn't isn't a feeling, or a privilege, it isn't something that happens because the stars were aligned in that perfect way, or because the moon was shining on the right part of the ocean. It isn't some complicated, unobtainable thing.

Honesty, I'm not sure what it is yet. But I hope I'll find out.


	2. one

I feel as though the road to self discovery is full of turns and bumps and unexpected rabbits that speed in front of you and throw you momentarily off course. Of course, all those turns and bumps and potential road kill are bits of your life, the unplanned bits, the bad bits, the bits that we sometimes spend hours wishing to forget.

The thing about life though is that no matter how well we plan our journeys, there are always things that we won't expect, there will always be rabbits.

Well, of course, not actual rabbits, but you see the picture I am trying to paint. Life is an obstacle course and it's our purpose to finish it successfully.

Although, much like love, I haven't really actually got life figured out either. But I feel as though my road metaphor is an appropriate one. And I really do feel that heartbreak is one of those massive pot holes that turn the tiniest of cracks in your windscreen into a shattered mess of glass. But enough about love and heartbreak, no one likes to dwell on times of sadness, though most do anyway.

Of course, life isn't just full of heartache and devastation, it also has its fair share of absolutely brilliant moments that just sweep you off your fe-

'Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!' the startled voice of the beautiful blonde that just crashed into me, sending a plethora of books and papers shooting in all directions, sounds in the small uncrowded corridor.

'No, that's fine, it's okay.' I bend down in an attempt to exit the situation as quickly as possible by shuffling a seemingly random pile of documents into my arms.

'Oh, that's my book.' there is a softness to girl's voice as she points a finger at the Chemistry book clutched in my left hand.

'Oh,' I try to muster a soft laugh to ease the evident awkwardness as I sweep a section of my long brunette hair out of my face. I hand her back her book, feeling the blush of embarrassment threatening to creep its up my neck as I remember I don't take Chemistry. 'Sorry.' I smile and attempt to move past her as soon as she's taken the heavy book from my hand.

'Emma, by the way.' I am stopped abruptly by the unexpectedness of her introduction.

'Sorry?'

'My name, Swan, Emma Swan.' her smile sends of jolt of butterflies into my stomach as I realise the stupidity of what I just said.

'Oh, right, yes, Regina, Regina Mills.' I acknowledge her outstretched hand with a gentle shake and turn before she has the chance to speak again.

It takes me a full twenty minutes before I am able to shake the sleepy grip that had snaked its way around my whole body and soul. I slowly creep out of bed and into the shower and then into my work clothes after.

The walk to the cafe that I work at doesn't take long, but it does this morning. It's as though the tiredness I feel in my mind had entered my bloodstream and turned my legs to some form of rock that has made is seemingly impossible to do anything effectively.

I finally reach the amber front of the shop I'd be spending the next hour and half of my day in, before dragging myself out and attending another two hour lecture for my law assignment.

The soft _ding ding_ of the bell above the door resounds throughout the almost empty cafe and the sound of my feet hitting the floor seem a hundred times louder than they do on my exit when the hubbub of everyday life is filling the air around me.

'Morning,' the sweet voice of a co-working by the name of Ruby, but more commonly addressed as Red, sings through the room. 'What's up, Buttercup?' she asks after seeing my dishevelled appearance.

'Late night.' I answer in one simple grunt that conveys my mood plainly and effectively.

'Ooh, out partying?' she laughs slightly, as a recollection of soft curves and sweet smelling hair floods through my mind. I shake my head in an attempt to empty it of the unwanted memory.

'I wish.' I force a gentle chuckle out before moving to a position that ends the conversation.

The hour moves slowly, and there is only twenty minutes left of my shift as I hear the familiar chime of the bell above the door. I look up, more awake now but still aware of the fatigue pulsing through my body. A girl with light blonde hair has entered rummaging through her bag, her head buried within the material.

As she slowly reaches the counter and I prepare to take her order, her hand leaves her bag with her desired item (her purse) and her head slowly rises as she returns her bag strap to her shoulder.

A familiar pair of hazel coloured eyes meet my gaze and it takes me a second to return to reality. I hadn't noticed the girl's striking beauty during our first encounter. I didn't take in the way her hair falls gracefully around her face, neck and shoulders, shaping her perfectly.

'A latte, to go please, medium sized.' she shows no hint of recognition in her eyes as she orders her drink and I try to ignore the disappointment that fills my stomach.

'Will that be all?' I ask, retrieving a cup and marking down her order.

'Yes,' she smiles softly and politely, 'the name's-'

'Emma Swan' I finish for her, placing her cup under the dispenser. A clear flash of confusion crosses her face as she visibly tries to place a name to my face. 'We bumped into each other in the corridor at college yesterday,' I remind her, 'I picked up your Chemistry book by mistake.'

'Oh, yes! Regina Mills.' she smiles again, but more genuinely and the disappointment in my stomach is replaced with a mixture of relief and happiness, 'I didn't recognise you with your hair tied back and in a net.' she smirks and I can't help but smile.

I hand her her drink and she bids me goodbye as she turns and leaves the cafe.


	3. two

Making coffee for Emma Swan every morning became an established routine as she came in everyday at 8:15 to order her latte before leaving for college or the library. There is something very reassuring about seeing her everyday, even if the conversation rarely moves past an order, a potential joke and a goodbye.

However small our interactions, as the days bled into weeks and the weeks into months, I felt a friendship blossom in those small moments. Although I have found I rarely see her at college, mainly due to our difference in subject choices, so we both have different hours for our classes.

I can't help but find myself craving those moments, leaving earlier for work in the hopes of seeing her sooner, hanging around the library in the wish our studies will coincide.

There is just something about her, something about the way she smiles and how her eyes crinkle slightly when she does. Something about how she laughs or how her hair falls perfectly around her face.

Something about her, something about her makes me unable to stop thinking about her.


	4. three

Emma Swan stands in front of a body length mirror struggling to decide between a burgundy dress and a back one, both of similar cut. Something about the difficulty of the decision makes her feel foolish for even putting half as much effort as she is doing, just to go and study. But something within her keeps driving her to make the perfect decision.

She pulls the red dress on and puts the lipstick she'd chosen for the dress on. She twists her wrist and reads the time on her watch, _7.55AM._ She moves towards where she hangs her jackets and bags and puts on her leather jacket on. She pulls her wavy blonde hair from her collar and reminds herself, again, to make an appointment with her trainee hairdresser friend Ella to have it trimmed. She picks up her book filled bag and leaves her room, unable to place where her butterflies are stemming from, nor can she forget the sense of silliness at her unusual effort in appearance.

Before she has reached the elevator at the end of the hall, she turns around and goes back to her room to change and decides to go straight to the library and forget about coffee today.

The morning has been busier than usual due to the time of semester and I can feel a cold coming on, but my shift ends soon and I know in five minutes I'll see Emma and for some unknown reason that makes the whole thing seem worth it.

The rest of the morning drags by slowly and by the time the clock above me has reached _8.45AM_ I'm struggling to conceal my disappointment. I pull the hair net from my tied back hair and put it in my locker with my cap and apron before changing into my clothes for school.

The ten minute walk from work to school seems longer and slower, as if my body hasn't slept for weeks and I can't help my face being a clear indicator of my mood.

My head is a mixture of embarrassment, disappointment and stupidity, and I can't help but think back to my internal monologue of the question of is loving anyone after having your heart broken possible. My mood hazes my thoughts and as I turn the corner and walk through the front doors of my college building I try to understand my feelings for this almost stranger, Emma Swan.

 _ **There has been a slight change in the arrangement of the story, so if you started reading before this chapter was published, go back and reread the first two chapters otherwise the read of the story won't make sense**_


	5. four

'She's pretty, you know.' Red says as we both wipe down surfaces and change coffee filters.

'What?' I ask.

'That friend of yours, the one who comes in all the time, the blonde one. She's pretty.' I can hear the smirk on Red's face by the tone in her voice without having to look at her to see it.

'Why don't you ask her out? I'm sure you'd be a lovely couple and she seems nice.' I haven't seen Emma since that day last week when she just stopped coming to the cafe in the mornings and I haven't seen even the smallest glimpse of her around college. The pit of disappointment had been replaced by a well of sadness and I've been acting like a love sick puppy that had been stolen from its master ever since.

'I'm not sure it's me she wants.' this grabs my attention and I hate the way it makes my head spin round to face her.

'What do you mean?'

'I've seen the way you two look at each other, you can hardly keep that smirk off of your face when she comes in.' Red puts her cloth and spray down and turns to face me, a sudden seriousness to what she is saying. 'I know it was a few months ago, but G, it's okay not to be ready to start something new. It's okay to need more time.'

I've spent the last week immersed in my thoughts, stuck in that numb world of contemplation. Trapped within myself.

It has been two weeks since I last saw Emma, and it's fair to say that the well of sadness has overflown and now resembles more of a lake or small river. Although, I can also feel a small puddle of it being soaked up by the towel of acceptance (I'm big on the metaphors). However much I thought about my feelings for her, she was showing me that she wasn't interested and no matter how upsetting I find it, it's a simple part of life that everyone has to acknowledge. It isn't her fault, and I won't blame her for not feeling the way I want her to feel, no matter how much I want to.

Besides, it isn't the end, there is still hope and chance. Perhaps love isn't obtainable anymore, but maybe, hopefully, friendship is. Small steps. That's what I need to do, take smaller steps and now rush it. Red's words echo around my head whenever I catch myself thinking about Emma and the anger I felt has disappeared and there's now a sense of warmth that is accompanied by the memory. Friendship, that's what I need first.

That's why when Graham was dishing up invitations to a party this weekend, I took one for me and one for Red.


End file.
